Jumping Tracks
by HAL HARV and Watson
Summary: The WH crew has had strange cases, but this one beats all. For one thing, the WH telepathic shrink Chapel calls them to 1990. For another, they're dealing with top secret Project Quantum Leap. Then there's the little issue Admiral Calavicci's in a coma, his mind totally gone. As they try to figure out the puzzle, it becomes clear everyone involved knows more than they're telling.
1. Chapter 1

"Who does this Chapel guy think he is?" Gushie demanded.

Ziggy replied, "Congress sent him down. Not surprising, considering what happened."

"Yes, but why do we need a shrink? We already have one one!"

"Don't ask me."

Gushie sighed. Great. Just great. This was the icing on the cake, it really was.

He walked into the Waiting room where this Mark Chapel was sitting with this hands clasped and eyes closed, mediating. Gushie cleared his throat. Chapel's dark brown eyes snapped open, and he smiled. He must have been mid- to late-twenties, but there was a solid gray streak in his hair. Perhaps he didn't respond well to stress.

"Well, do I have clearance now?" he asked pleasantly.

"Yes, you do. Where would you like to start?"

"With the admiral, if you wouldn't mind."

"Of course." Gushie had expected that. Of course this kid was coming down to see Al. That was why everyone was so nervous.

"He's not in any good shape, is he?" Chapel asked.

"No."

"And whatever happened to him was strange and unexplainable?"

"Yes."

Chapel sighed. This did not look good, to say the least. He was lucky to have his specialist in the odd and bizarre on speed dial, even here.

The man stood and followed Gushie through the maze. He walked almost listlessly, and he appeared quite a bit out of it.

"Why are you doing this?" Chapel asked unexpectedly. "You're not exactly next in line for his job."

"He's my friend," Gushie replied and left it at that. That was all he needed to say.

"Ah."

They reached the re-purposed electronics closet. The techs had cleaned it out and put in a bed and medical equipment. Admiral Al Calavicci was in the bed hooked up to everything, but he wasn't responding to any stimuli. Chapel stepped forward and looked down into his face then glanced up at the various monitors.

"When did this happen?" Chapel asked.

"About 48 hours ago. Something in the Imaging Chamber exploded."

"I doubt that's related."

"Excuse me?"

"My track record with this sort of thing is very long. It's why I'm here, among other things, and, believe me, what you think is the cause isn't."

Gushie looked at him incredulously.

"Leave me, please," Chapel said. Gushie nodded reluctantly, and the room cleared. Chapel sighed, took a deep breath, and put a hand on the admiral's face. A minute later, he gasped and withdrew it. He hurried out of the room.

"I need to make a call," he explained in a rush to Gushie. Before Gushie could reply, Chapel was gone down the hall. He found a quiet corner and pulled out his small communication device. He connected the Wilson sundial and finely tuned it.

The familiar face came up on the small screen.

"Mark! What's going on?" Artie asked.

"I think I've got a one."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I'm in 1990 with the Quantum Leap project. Send Pete and Myka down to Los Alamos. I'll take care of the rest."

"Alright. They'll be there in a few hours."

"Good. I'll meet them in town. I have a thing or two to take care of first."

He closed the lid and tucked it away before heading back. He headed back into the sick room, and he pulled out an old leather portfolio.

"And how does that make you feel?" he whispered to the coma patient. The leather glowed brightly, and he opened it. Frowning, he closed it again and turned to go.

Gushie had been watching the whole time. "What's that?" he asked.

Chapel looked at him. "You'd never believe me. Now, I have to go into town. I'll be back in a few hours."

"Alright. But I have to ask, is it serious?"

"I don't know yet. I hope not."

* * *

Artie walked into the parlor armed with a new assignment. Pete and Myka were waiting with tea and scones.

"Well, what's today's seek-and-find?" Myka asked. She was in a good mood; Pete hadn't gotten on her nerves all day.

"I'm not sure," Artie replied as he sat down and reached for a scone and passed out the files. "Do you remember Mark Chapel?"

"Yeah," Pete replied. "Weirdo shrink who could dig around in more ways than one?"

"Yes. Well, he's in New Mexico in 1990, and he needs some help. He has a ping."

"He's in 1990?" Myka asked. "How did he manage that?"

"With the sundial that Carrie Wilson owned. She was a time travel researcher, and her sundial will let you jump through time. The side effect is it will mess up your internal clock. Your biological rhythms eventually move to the tune the dial sets for it."

"Why does Mark have it?" Pete asked.

"Because it happened to him. Nasty accident. Now, you'll be leaving for Los Alamos ASAP."

"Los Alamos? Cool!" Pete declared as he took the plane ticket. Myka rolled her eyes.

"Anything else we need to know?"

"He's with the Quantum Leap project, but he'll have to fill you in."

Pete and Myka stood to go. They had a long flight ahead of them.


	2. Chapter 2

Dr. Mark Chapel ran his finger over the surface of the Wilson sundial, and with a little concentration, he managed to help the two agents Artie had sent cross the temporal barrier. They suddenly appeared in the chairs across from him in this little cafe.

"Whoa," Myka said.

"Welcome to 1990," Chapel smiled. "Might I suggest the coffeecake?"

Pete automatically picked up the menu and flipped to the desserts.

"Pete, focus," Myka admonished. She turned the Warehouse psychiatrist. "So what's this Quantum Leap project?"

"Keep your voice down. They're a bit paranoid." He took a swig of coffee. "It's the brainchild of Dr. Sam Beckett and Admiral Al Calavicci. The basic idea is one can travel through time, provided you stay within your own lifetime." He ripped a strip off his paper napkin. "So let's say this is your life. You tie the ends together to get a loop, and then you twist it and crush it so all the dates are touching. They aren't in sequential order any more. That's the Quantum Leap. The thing is, they were going to end the project, but Beckett had enough faith to jump in the accelerator, despite the advice of their central computer. Now he's stuck leaping around in time, so Calavicci is in charge while they try to figure out how to get Beckett back. Unfortunately, it takes them 6, 7, maybe even 8 years to pull it off. Where we are now, they've just had their budget renewed after the first year. Needless to say, there is an undercurrent of euphoria."

"And what's going on here?" Pete asked.

Chapel sighed. "That's just it. I don't really know, but I'll give you what I have. Around 48 hours ago, there was an explosion in the Imaging Chamber. Someone was in there, the admiral, to be exact. Since then, he's been in a deep coma."

"An explosion?" Myka asked doubtfully.

"Yeah. It's far more likely he came into contact with an artifact. Just what, that's the question. Did you bring neutralizer?"

"Of course." Pete reached down and lifted up the canister.

"I have no idea what we're dealing with, but it's powerful enough to send someone's mind elsewhere, possibly by telepathic transference. I couldn't get anything off the admiral."

"Speaking of the admiral," Myka said. "What's so important about him?"

"He's the top dog out here. He gets everything done from ensuring funding continues coming in to helping Beckett in the past. He was actually fired some time ago, but was reinstated, and no one's willing to talk about it. Blackmail by the looks of it."

Myka raised an eyebrow.

"And, needless to say, there are a couple other skeletons rattling around in his closet. And he's obsessed with sex."

"And you got all of this, where?" Myka asked.

"Readings of his coworkers, and gossip. The Quantum Leap rumor mill runs at a high speed and boats a very high truth percentage in its information."

"Alright. Well, how are we going to get in?" Pete asked.

"You are hens forth my assistants. I can pull a string or two. Don't worry."

And, just as good as his word, and hour or so later, the two Warehouse were standing at the admiral's beside hoping clues would come up, fast.

"Tell us more about the accident," Myka said to Gushie.

"Well, he was using the Imaging Chamber. Nothing was odd, but then Ziggy suddenly lost contact with Dr. Beckett."

"Ziggy?" Pete asked.

"Our Parallel-Hybrid Computer. He runs everything from temperature control to the locks on the doors."

"You have seen _2001_, right?" Pete asked.

"I don't know what you mean by that," Gushie replied.

"I mean, if Ziggy fails or goes insane, you're sunk."

"Hadn't thought of that."

Chapel cleared his throat. "You lost contact with Dr. Beckett. Then what?"

"Then somehow something ignited, and suddenly, there was a a bang. We raced in and found Al with his clothes on fire unconscious on the floor. We couldn't take him to the hospital, so we made our own."

"Did anything odd happen before it? Or did you notice anything strange?" Myka asked.

"Strange how?"

"Anything that felt out of place, or even just plain wrong," Chapel supplied.

Gushie shook his head. "No, couldn't say that." Then after a moment, he added, "No, wait. Al was acting a bit... odd. Just out of it. He didn't really seem to be himself. I thought he just hadn't gotten enough sleep."

"Thank you. You can go back to work. If we have any more questions, we'll find you," Chapel said. Gushie nodded and stood.

"Can you really fix this?"

"Yes, we can. Just give us some time," Myka replied.

Gushie left. Chapel went to stand next to the admiral. He couldn't get rid of the funny feeling he kept getting. The sundial whispered to him, but he couldn't quite make it out.

"Doc, you okay?" Pete asked him. "You look a little out of it."

"Him...? Oh, I'm fine. It's just that there's something odd about this."

Myka came over. "What do you mean?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. I just get this odd feeling when I look at him. It's probably the fact he's totally gone. Everything's on auto."

"Could he have really transfered his mind?" Pete asked.

"You're Warehouse vets. You've seen stranger, and so have I. The real question is what caused it."

Myka nodded. "We probably can't call Artie, can we?"

"Here." Chapel said and held out his hand. "Let me take your Farnsworth."

She handed it over, and he fiddled with it for a moment before pulling a small sundial on a chain out from under his shirt. He ran a finger along the edge of it and tapped it on the Farnsworth. He handed it back.

"There you go. It'll contact you're Artie, not the one currently on the verge of working alone."

She opened it and turned the dial. "Artie, are you there?"

"Yes, I am. Mark must have gotten the Farnsworth working. How's the investigation going?" Artie asked.

"Not well," Pete said and got into the frame. "We've got a guy in a coma, and Mark says his mind is totally gone, possibly by mind transference."

"Know anything that might cause that?" Myka asked.

"Let me see." He punched something in the computer. "There isn't much that isn't in the Warehouse. Let's see... There's only Jung's pen missing. Nothing else out there could cause something like this, but I'll keep digging."

"Thanks. We'll call if we find anything else," Pete said. Myka closed the Farnsworth

"Well," she said. "Now what?"


	3. Chapter 3

"Are you sure you want in there? Nasty," the technician said to them outside the Imaging Chamber.

"Absolutely," Chapel replied. "We need to search around." He applied just a little bit of his mental persuasion and the tech nodded.

"Alright."

"Has anything been touched?" Myka asked.

"No. No one's had the guts to go in."

"Then we'll be the first," she said.

The tech shrugged and put in a command on his auxiliary board. The door slid up sparking, and the agents went in.

"You didn't bring the Durational Spectrometer, did you?" Chapel asked.

"No. It's not exactly part of the standard Warehouse field kit," Pete replied.

"Alright. We'll have to make do." Chapel pulled back his shoulders, took the sundial in his hand, and he stood stock still. "He was standing around... here." He walked forward and marked the spot.

"How did you do that?" Myka asked.

"The sundial combined with my telepathic powers. I can feel it."

"Okay," Pete said. "So he was standing here, and then what happened?"

"This lit on fire." Chapel pointed to one of the projectors.

"Probably a short circuit," Myka said. "Then what?"

"Everything blew. Just like that," he snapped his fingers.

"What was the source?" Pete asked.

"I can't tell. I don't know if there was one. It surged from all sides, like everything was set to blow at exactly the same time."

"Set up," Myka and Pete chorused. Chapel nodded.

"But what was this supposed to cover up?"

* * *

Ziggy was next on their interrogation list. Since they couldn't really see him face to face, they ended up talking to him in the main control room.

"What is your take on what happened?" Myka asked.

"Well, let's see. The Imaging Chamber blew up, the admiral is currently in a deep coma, and we know nothing."

"Could you be a bit more specific?" Pete asked.

Ziggy laughed, an eerie, oddly human sound. "Of course I could. The trouble is if I get too specific, we'll be standing here for hours."

"Try us," Myka challenged.

"Here. Let's make it easy." The printer whirred. "This is my 'take on what happened'."

The agents went over to the printer.

"What do you think?" Pete asked in a whisper to Chapel, who shrugged as he flipped through the printout.

"My powers don't work on him. Wouldn't surprise me if he kept something back. This certainly doesn't add anything new," he gestured to the printout.

"We may be able to get in," Myka replied and gestured to where she had stashed the Farnsworth.

Chapel and Pete knew exactly what she was talking about, or rather, who. Claudia.

"We'll have to come back," Pete said.

"Yes, and that reminds me," Chapel said. "We will need room and board. I'll go talk to someone."

* * *

Half an hour later, they were being shown their room in the project dorm by a kid who shouldn't have been out of college.

"This was Dr. Beckett's room."

"Wait," Chapel interrupted. "If I'm understanding the theory for all of this, then his body is still here. Where does he sleep?"

"We have a holding area for him to minimize contact with this time."

"Makes sense," Pete said.

The kid unlocked the door and forked over the key. "Sorry we don't have any other room."

"This will be fine," Myka assured him.

"We've had a few cots put in. I hope you'll be comfortable."

"Thank you."

The kid left them alone, and Myka promptly claimed the real bed. She sat down and opened the Farnsworth.

"Artie? Can you get Claudia? We need her hacker skills."

In a moment, their resident techie was on the other end. "Hey! So what do you need hacked?"

"A Parallel-Hybrid computer," Pete said.

"No way! Where did you find one of those?" she asked excitedly.

"New Mexico in 1990. What's so special about it?" Pete asked.

"They represent the first real AIs. Dr. Sam Beckett was the designer of the first one, Ziggy, who was the core of some uber hush-hush project in the 90s. He was supposed to go on to the space program once it was over, but the DOD flexed its muscles and shanghaied him. Beckett and his friend Albert Calavicci entered a complex legal battle to get him back, on the grounds Ziggy was self-aware, but I don't know what happened. The records seem to just end there. Unfortunately, no one's been able to copy the design, and there's been some recent debate if Ziggy himself wasn't a cheat." Claudia stopped for breath. "Right. You must be there with Ziggy, then."

"Yeah. He could be a pain in the ass," Myka said.

Claudia laughed. "That's what some people have said. So, it's not going to be easy breaking in. You're going to have to distract him, and I mean big time. If the specs for him are right, he can run a trillion calculations at once. You'll also have to be really creative and out-think him to some extent. That's not going to be easy."

"Can you help us?" Myka asked.

"Yeah. You're going to need a keyboard, an external port on Ziggy, and time. I'll walk you through it."

"Would an hour work?" Chapel asked.

"I think so, yeah."

"Well, let's get started, then."

* * *

"King's rook to d4," Ziggy said and moved the electronic piece. Chapel smiled and moved to take it.

"Queen to d4."

Myka and Pete, meanwhile, were waiting with bated breath for when Chapel gave the signal. He had done some mental digging and discovered what could only be called a potentially lethal glitch in Ziggy's chess program. If there were four captures on the square d4, it went into a loop and had to be totally reset. It choked Ziggy's central processors to the point the computer couldn't do much for all of its power. Gushie and the others had never figured out why it happened, and now the Warehouse agents were going to exploit it, as someone inevitably would have.

"Queen's rook to d8," Ziggy replied.

"Knight to a3," Chapel said, removing his protective knight from his queen.

"Queen's rook to d4," Ziggy replied and snatched up Chapel's queen.

One more to go.

"Knight to c2."

Ziggy laughed. "Queen's rook to d2."

"Knight to d4." Chapel had maneuvered Ziggy into the last capture. No protection for his knight, and Ziggy could take it with ease.

"Queen's rook to d4," Ziggy replied, taking the final step. There was a whir inside the machine, and Ziggy whispered, "What have you done?"

Chapel turned and nodded. Myka and Pete stepped up the the keyboard and the Farnsworth.

"Alright, Claud, how do we do this?" Pete asked.

"You need to get behind the firewall. No sweat. It's 80's tech, advanced, but puh-lease."

She was about to walk them through it when there was a sound outside. Myka hurriedly shut the Farnsworth, and Pete shoved the keyboard away.

"We should probably find someone," Chapel said loudly and gestured to the computer. The door opened, and Gushie poked his head in.

"Doctor, what are you doing here?"

He smiled sheepishly. "I was playing chess with Ziggy. Sorry, couldn't resist. He had just taken my knight when he suddenly froze up."

Gushie looked at Myka and Pete. "What are you two doing here? Chess isn't exactly a spectator sport."

"That's what you think!" Myka replied creatively. Pete nodded enthusiastically. The programmer gave them an odd look.

"Right."

"What are you still doing up?" Chapel asked, changing the subject.

"Just got up. Something set off an alarm." He came forward. "Were there four captures on d4?"

Chapel nodded. "Yeah."

Gushie sighed. "Alright. We have to do a reset."

"Won't that wipe his memory?" Pete asked.

"No. Everything's hard." He slipped behind the tower of hardware and fiddled with something. Ziggy's screen went dark, but then it came back up.

"There." Gushie brushed off his hands as he came back out.

"Well, I guess we should get to bed. The little I had was stimulating," Chapel said.

"Indeed," Myka agreed. They hurried out and back to the dorm.

* * *

It was probably at least 3 in the morning. Pete was keeping them up with his pacing.

"Pete!" Myka said sharply. "What is it?!"

He stopped. "I keep getting weird vibes. And something doesn't add up."

"Well, put it up for discussion," Chapel suggested from his cot against the wall. "Maybe we can help you figure it out."

"It's just..." He rubbed his jaw. "When we talked to him, Gushie said they couldn't take the admiral to the hospital. Why not?"

Chapel and Myka sat up.

"I mean," Pete went on, "they would be able to keep it under wraps, right? They could certainly do that, or even just come up with an excuse. So why is Calavicci in an old electronics closet?"

"You're right," Myka said. "How could I have not noticed it?"

"The same way I didn't," Chapel replied.

"Someone's in on it," Myka said.

"Not necessarily," Chapel replied. "What if they tried to get him to the hospital? But something stopped them."

"What if they found out taking him away would stop his heart?" Pete asked. "So they just kept him here."

"Or what if something literally keeps him here?" Myka asked. She looked at Chapel. "They must have called someone for you to be sent down here."

"They called Congress. They had no idea and were scared out their minds. The project might go under if Calavicci does. He's been holding the project together. If it weren't for him, they would have lost funding and moral long before that. And they all know it. Mrs. Fredrick heard about it years later, and, more importantly, she found records about my being here. Well, she called me up and gave me clearance to get down here."

"Okay. Well, it sounds like we need to talk to someone about what they really learned that night," Pete said.


	4. Chapter 4

Because of Al's current state, Sadie Jones had taken over. She did not like how these Congressionally-sanctioned strangers had free run of the Project, but she had to admit they had spunk and style. They were currently sitting in her temporary office looking for answers to unnerving questions.

"Something kept you from taking Calavicci to the hospital," Myka Bering said. "What was it?"

"I'm not sure what you mean," Sadie replied.

"We mean," Pete jumped in, "you could have given the press a crap story and gotten him medical care in town, but instead, he's a couple floors down where you store Ziggy's extra circuits."

Chapel thought they were being just a bit too direct.

"We wouldn't get to town in time," Sadie responded.

"Oh, come on!" Pete snorted. "You can do better than that, Sadie! You could have been to town and back **twice** in the time it would have taken you to empty that closet and put everything in! It couldn't have been a rush job; it's all too sensitive for that."

They certainly had their facts down; Sadie had to give them that.

Myka sat forward. "Listen. We want Calavicci back on his feet just as much as you do. More even. We have a job to do here, but we need answers to do it."

Sadie sighed "Alright. You want the truth?"

"That would be nice," Pete admitted.

"You'll never believe it. I certainly don't. Well, the truth is, we tried to get him to town. We didn't really have the facilities to care for him. But when we tried to get him out the door, his heart nearly burst."

Pete, Myka, and Chapel looked at each other.

"You don't say," Chapel said.

Sadie nodded. "Yeah. It was the damnedest thing. Just all of a suddenly, Tina shouts we need to back away from the door. Every step we got closer to it, the faster his heart beat. His system wouldn't have been able to take it. So we backed away and scrounged something up."

"Tina?" Myka asked.

"Our chief medical technician, and the admiral's girlfriend. She's been in charge of his care."

* * *

Tina was carefully watching the monitors when they came in. She looked like she had been up all night. When Chapel cleared his throat, she turned to face them. Chapel had seen her hanging around before, and he had great sympathy for her.

"How is he?" Myka asked, knowing exactly how she felt, standing at the bedside of the man that meant so much, wondering if he would open his eyes again.

"Stable, if nothing else."

Chapel let her emotions flood him, and he felt every once of her pain and confusion and disbelief. There were times when his sensitive mind was a curse rather than a blessing. In some ways, this was one of them.

"I'm not going to tell you I'm sorry," Chapel said. "Because that doesn't mean anything to you." He put a hand on her shoulder and let a few of his emotions trickle into her mind. She gasped and looked at him, at those brown eyes trapped behind his glasses and whatever barrier he had built up over the years. "But believe me when I say we're here to help."

She nodded, and he let his hand drop to his side.

"We need some information," Pete said quietly. "What can you tell us about when you tried to take Calavicci to the hospital?"

She sighed. "Well, I was monitoring everything as we raced out, but suddenly, I noticed his heart rate was skyrocketing as we got closer to the door. I called to stop. It stayed constant, and then, when I pulled him back, it slowed just a little bit. It didn't take Dr. Beckett to figure out what was happening."

The Warehouse agents knew what that meant; its influence was what enabled him to live. That did not bode well, to say the least. How could they beat something like that?

* * *

"Well, at least we know it's still here, somewhere," Myka said, taking her turn to pace. Chaple was lying flat on his back on his cot staring at the ceiling in an almost trance-like state. He thought better when he could lock himself away in the depths of his mind.

"Well, that narrows the field of search," Pete replied.

"Yes, but what good does that do you?" Artie asked from the Farnsworth.

"He has a point," Chapel said dreamily. "Did you find anything else, Artie?"

He shook his head. "No."

"Alright then. We'll get creative," Chapel replied. Then it struck him, what the sundial had been saying. He sat up. "It may not be mind transference. He might have mentally gone to another universe."

The others looked at him, waiting for him to go on.

"I mean, he's gone, and no one's been walking around with a split personality. We would have heard of that by now, and my readings haven't gotten anything like that. He's not even here, anywhere here. Where could he have gone? Into the artifact? Possible, I suppose, but the sundial wouldn't have picked it up. It was trying to tell me something earlier, and I think this is it."

"An alternate universe..." Artie mused. "I'll look into it." He shut his Farnsworth.

"You know," Myka said. "This is a little bit like the thing with Hugo."

"You're right!" Pete replied.

Chapel looked at them expectantly.

"Hugo Miller. You probably saw the case files," Myka supplied.

Chapel nodded. "Poor guy. Brilliant man suddenly turned into a kid, all because of cheating."

"Wait," Pete said excitedly. "Cheating! Mark, you said they've been having problems getting Beckett back, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, what if one of them discovered an artifact and decided to try and cheat their way around the problems they've been having?"

Chapel sat up. "That's just plausible enough to work. Now, who's in position to use an artifact?"

"Well," Myka said. "There's the admiral, right? And Ziggy, and maybe Gushie."

"Really anyone with access to Ziggy," Chapel said.

"And they'd have to get Calavicci in on it, right?" Pete asked. "Or at least Ziggy."

"I think we need to talk to Ziggy again," Myka said.


	5. Chapter 5

Ziggy was expecting them when they reached the control room.

"I have to admit, you certainly are not what you seem," Ziggy said as they approached.

"Is anyone?" Chapel asked philosophically.

Ziggy laughed. "I suppose not, but you have something specific up your sleeve."

"Nope, just my arm," Chapel smiled, enjoying this.

"That's what you say now. What questions do you have now?"

Pete stepped forward. "We know someone approached you about getting Dr. Beckett back."

"Approached me with what? That's the question. The admiral beats me over the head about it everyday, as you would say."

"Wasn't it your fault he's trapped?" Myka asked.

"That wasn't the result of any of my actions," Ziggy replied sharply. "He tripped my automatics by entering the accelerator. I couldn't interfere or kill him."

"No, but it must make you mad and frustrated," Myka said, pushing forward, getting into her stride. "The closest person you have to a father is stuck jumping through time, and there's nothing you can do about it. All of your attempts to get him back have ended in failure. So, when someone comes to you saying they know how to get around the problems, you ask yourself, 'What's the harm?' But before you know it, the admiral is unresponsive and the Project is in danger of going under."

"What are you trying to say?" Ziggy asked.

"I'm trying to say you're processor-deep in something you don't have any control over."

If Ziggy could have smiled, he would have.

"The only problem with that theory is you've been the first to talk to me about retrieval in a few weeks. For some reason or another, the admiral dropped it; probably to let me 'think about my actions' or some such dribble."

The others looked at each other. Computers couldn't lie, right?

"Well, have you detected any power surges?" Pete asked, jumping on an instinct.

"Yes, I have. The night before the admiral dropped under at exactly 11:02 PM, dorm room 87. No explanation. Gushie went to check it out and came back spouting something about plugging in one too many hair dryers. Please. Don't insult me."

"We'll be back," Chapel said. "We have someone to talk to."

* * *

According to Ziggy, dorm 87 was inhabited by one of the technicians, who had an inclination toward solitude and secrecy. She was one of their best and brightest, and it was surprising she wasn't higher up on the food chain. Someone with her intellect and training normally would have been placed in the next-up slot on the pyramid, but Ziggy didn't have an explanation. He hypothesized it was because she wanted to get her hands dirty and had asked for it.

Chapel knocked on the door. He knew she was in there.

Shannon Whitebirch answered the door in jeans and a t-shirt. She was waring a pair of heavy goggles tinted a dark red, obscuring her eyes. "Hello."

Pete noticed the room behind her was dark apart from a dim red light on her desk. She was attempting to maintain her night vision. A powerful vibe washed over him: she was hiding something big.

"Hello," Myka said, taking point. "We need to talk to you. May we come in?"

"Sure." She pushed open the door and let them in. She put something off her desk into a white box and then flipped on the lights. "Please excuse the goggles. I'm working with chemicals sensitive to light and have to maintain my night vision." She sat down. "So what do you need to know?"

"There was a power surge detected here just after 11 PM the night before the Imaging Chamber exploded. What was the cause?" Myka asked.

"I was testing a new circuit configuration for the Imaging Chamber. It didn't work exactly the way it should have."

Chapel noticed several books on her shelf. He walked over and peered at them. "You're a Pratchett fan?"

"Yes, I am. I find I need some absurdist humor in my day."

"Do you know what caused the explosion?" Pete asked.

She shook her head. "No. There's no reason that should have happened. We would have detected something if there was a problem, and we would have temporarily grounded it until we knew what it was and had it fixed."

"Could someone have fudged the readings?" Pete asked.

"I suppose so, but that would take going behind Ziggy's back and seriously messing with the sensors and the backups. We've built in a lot for safety because it's all so temperamental and dangerous if everything's not exactly right. It would have to be someone Ziggy trusts completely with clearance. There are not many in that pool."

"Thank you for your time," Myka said. They had a few people to check out.

* * *

"Come on," Pete said. "There has to be someone!"

Ziggy replied, "Who said I trust **anyone**?"

"Common sense," Chapel said. "You have to allow someone in to do upgrades and the like. Besides, I find it hard to believe you wouldn't at least trust Gushie after the first year."

Ziggy waited a beat, his processors whirring as he contemplating it. "I do suppose you have a point., but why are you asking?"

"We believe someone set up the explosion," Myka said. "And that someone would have to go behind your back and mess with the sensors so you couldn't find out. We're assuming you had nothing to do with it."

"What could I possibly have to gain from it? Nothing. I have everything I could ask for, well, apart from an understanding superior, and that I do not get by destroying the only link we have to Dr. Beckett."

"How do you get it?" Pete asked.

"By working on our relationship, and I suspect the admiral cares more for me than he makes plain. Besides, even if he doesn't, I still have free run, in a manner of speaking. Now, you're looking for someone I would let behind my back and who could adjust the sensors. Here's the list." The printer started. "You better be right about this, and I want you to promise they will come to justice." Venom just barely tainted Ziggy's words. If they didn't do something about it, he would, and there would be no mercy.

The Project's safety was in good hands.

"I can personally promise they will be repentant before we're done with them," Chapel replied.

"I will hold you to that, Doctor."

"As you should."

"Why did you say that?" Pete asked him over at the printer.

"We're dealing with someone who has no idea. That's obvious. They're chest deep in something they don't understand or have any control over. If they did, one of us would be under with the admiral for poking our noses into this, or this wouldn't have happened in the first place."

The Farnsworth went off. Myka slipped over to them and answered it.

"Hey."

"Hey," Claudia replied. "I might have found something about Ziggy."

"Okay. Shoot," Pete said.

"Well, I was curious, so I started looking for what happened to him after Beckett and Calavicci took their case to court. They actually won by a technicality, so Ziggy was given the freedom to choose what he wanted to do. He decided to retire from government service and moved to Eureka to work at Global Dynamics. I called Doug, and I'll go talk to him to see if he'll tell me what happened."

"What happened to Dr. Beckett and Admiral Calavicci?" Myka asked.

"Well, they moved into the same senior community with Dennis Gushie, the famous programmer. They all stayed in New Mexico. All of them have families. They're still in contact, obviously. The admiral is just about 80, and Beckett is nearly 60 these days."

"You should probably go talk to them, too," Myka said.

Claudia sighed loudly. "Fine. If I have to."

"It'll be fine. You get along well enough with Artie, right?" Myka asked.

Claudia just shut the Farnsworth. Myka and the others smiled.

"Alright, well, while we wait, let's check out this list," Pete said.

"Sounds good."

* * *

Doug Fargo nervously shook Claudia's hand. Here she was, back in Eureka, and he wanted to show off. But she was here specifically for Ziggy.

"So, you're here to see Ziggy."

"Yep. We're working on a case for the Warehouse, and he might be able to help."

"He?" Fargo asked confused.

"Yeah, he. Why?"

"Because Ziggy has a woman's voice. We've called her 'her' since she arrived. She's never made it clear if she even has a gender."

This was something new Claudia had not heard about before. What an odd piece of trivia.

They descended several levels of the Global Dynamics complex, and Fargo led Claudia through a door to where a space-age console was set up. A large electric blue sphere glowed in the center of the room, and Claudia assumed that was the equivalent to Ziggy's face.

"Ziggy," Fargo said.

"Yes, Fargo," Ziggy responded in a clearly female voice.

"There's someone here who would like to speak with you. Claudia Donovan."

"Hi," Claudia said.

"Well, Miss. Donovan, welcome to my little hideaway."

"I'll leave you two alone," Fargo said, getting Claudia's unsaid message when she looked at him.

He left and closed the door behind him.

"What would you like to know?" Ziggy asked.

"How do you know what I'm here fore?" Claudia asked.

"I am used mostly as a data dump these days. I am not totally compatible with the central computer, and there is resistance to replacing it with me. Fargo and the others come down to play chess and apologize that this isn't what I thought it would be."

"Why don't you transfer to some place you would be more useful?"

"Because that would mean giving up what you would call a friendship with Fargo, as well as the treatment I get here. They take very good care of me, even if I'm a relic most people have forgotten about. They've set aside a whole floor for hard memory for me, and they've devised a new data compression system so I get the most room out of it. But if I don't want that, I can live in the past with the terabytes of RAM they've set aside. It's a little hard to give it up. Now, I'll ask again, what do you want to know?"

Claudia shook herself. "Right. I know you were involved with Project Quantum Leap. Do you remember when Al Calavicci fell into a coma?"

"Of course I do. My memory from the project is completely intact, even if I can't share it. It's all still classified, you know."

"Yeah, I know, but I really need to know."

"Well, considering you actually have the clearance to have gotten this far, alright."

"What happened, exactly?"

"When during that incident?"

"After Chapel showed up."

"Give me a minute."

Something whirred as Ziggy accessed his-her-memories on it. After a minute, the supercomputer was ready.

"All of this compression must make it difficult to recall stuff on command," Claudia remarked.

"You have no idea. I'm still in contact with Dr. Beckett and Admiral Calavicci, and recently, they've been planning a project reunion. So they've asked me to put something together about the years we spent together. It's been... interesting going back through it all."

Claudia cleared her throat. "So. Dr. Chapel, right?"

"Oh, Dr. Chapel. Nosy pain in the motherboard. His 'assistants' were no better. Now, once Chapel got involved, it became clear rather quickly there was something strange going on. They refused to talk about it, but they knew just a bit too much about the project and everyone involved. Not to mention the way they would keep asking about objects. 'Did the admiral ever come into contact with anything strange?' they would ask. So I did some digging. Mark Chapel was born in 1982, so there was no way he could have been in his 20s with his doctorate in 1990. When I asked about it, they finally came clean. Warehouse 13. They worked with dangerous objects, and they knew one was at work here."

Claudia was surprised. He-she-had had the clearance to find out about the Warehouse? And Pete, Myka, and Chapel had trusted him-her-to tell him-her everything? Well, if they had, she might as well, too.

"You're Warehouse, too, aren't you?" Ziggy asked suddenly.

Oh... kay...

"Yes, and I really need to know what happened with the admiral."

"Well, it's a long story. Take a seat."

Claudia sat down in the chair in front of the console and reached for her notbook.


	6. Chapter 6

"So get this," Claudia said to the others. "Ziggy remembers everything that happened, but she-he-thinks it would be best if we solved the puzzle ourselves."

"Wait, weren't you there for an hour? What did you talk about?" Myka asked.

"She-he-told me what happened but left out the ending where you figure out what the artifact is and who has it. Oh, and she-he-knows you're Warehouse. Got curious and did some digging. You'll come clean when she-he-talks to you about it."

"Why do you keep calling Ziggy 'she?'" Pete asked.

"Because Ziggy has a female voice."

"Not here," Myka said.

"Probably reprogrammed," Claudia said.

"Did you talk to Dr. Beckett or the admiral yet?" Chapel asked.

"No. Not yet."

"Is Artie there?" Myka asked.

"Yeah. I wouldn't want to face these guys without him." She glanced up as her boss turned toward her from the front desk. "Gotta go. Call you later." She shut the Farnsworth as Artie came up. "Good to go?"

"Yep."

She stood and followed him down the hall. Beckett, Calavicci, and Gushie lived in an independent and assisted living community in Roswell. They had all married at some point, and they were all still deeply involved with science: Beckett lectured at the local university; Calvicci wrote for general-level physics journals; and Gushie edited a programming magazine.

They walked to 17-12 to see Dr. Beckett first. Knocking on the door brought a senior man's face.

"Dr. Beckett?" Artie asked.

"Yes?"

"Artie Neilsen. We spoke on the phone?"

"Yes, Dr. Neilsen. Come in." He pushed open the door and showed them into a small living room. Dr. Beckett's wife came in from the kitchen. "Who's this?"

"Dr. Artie Neilsen and Claudia Donovan. They're here to talk about something that happened at the Project."

"Did Congress send you?" she asked.

"In a way, yes," Claudia replied. "We have some questions about an event you may not even be aware of."

"Sit down," Sam Beckett invited as he took a spot in an armchair facing the couch. Arite and Claudia sat down next to each other on the couch.

"Donna," Sam went on. "Maybe you should go. This might be one of those incidents you're not aware of."

She looked at him. "You mean Al went behind my back?"

"In a way," Sam replied.

Donna smiled and shook her head. "You're going to have to tell me at some point, you know." She breezed back into the kitchen. "Oh, and Amanda is coming by at two. Try to wrap it up before then."

"She doesn't know I'm not the Sam she married," Sam said when the door shut. "I'm sure you know what happened."

Claudia nodded. "Yeah. She's going to figure it out at some point."

"Probably. But, that's not what you're here to discuss."

"No, it isn't," Artie confirmed. "Are you aware of a time early in the Quantum Leap Project when Admiral Calavicci went into a coma?"

"What?"

"I guess that's a no, then," Claudia said. "Well, the Imaging Chamber blew up while he was using it, and when they got to him, he was out cold."

"Is that what that was? Al never told me."

"What did Al tell you?" Artie asked.

"I asked him what happened. He said I'd never belive him. Never mentioned it again, and I never pressed."

"You probably shouldn't bring up now," Claudia warned. "If he had really wanted to talk about it, he would have by now. You've been friends since, what? The beginning of time itself?"

Sam smiled. "It feels like that some times. Don't worry. I know all of his triggers. I would suggest you ask him, or Gushie down the hall."

"Thanks."

As they were leaving, Claudia spun around. "How is it you manage to live with Calavicci and Gushie? They must get on your nerves some times."

"They do. Of course they do. But we've been through so much together, and I couldn't imagine facing startling situations without Al any more. Quantum leaping killed that for me. We worked together for so long it's impossible to break that connection. Donna knows it, Beth, Al's wife, knows it, and Tina, Gushie's wife, knows it."

There was a pause that felt like a solid pressing down from the ceiling.

"Thank you for your time," Artie finally said.

"No problem."

They headed down the hall.

"I wonder what happened," Claudia said. "But what ever it was, it must have been bad."

Artie replied. "Not necessarily. Any one who's been affected by an artifact doesn't talk afterward. It's how we stay under wraps."

Claudia knocked on the door a few down from the Becketts'. A beautiful woman about 30 opened the door.

Taken back, Claudia said, "Mrs. Calavicci?"

The woman laughed. "Oh, God no! You must be here to see Mom."

"No," Artie replied. "We're here to see Admiral Calavicci."

"Alright. Come in."

As they walked in, she turned and shouted, "DAD! There's someone here to see you!"

"Who is it?" a rough voice demanded from the bedroom.

"Secret Service," Artie supplied.

"Secret Service," the woman called.

"Alright," Calavicci sighed and trudged out. He was wearing a maroon bathrobe, and only that from the looks of it.

"I'm going to go," Calavicci's daughter said and picked up her purse.

"Alright. You stay out of trouble," Calavicci smiled.

"I will." She turned and let herself out.

"Admiral, I'm Dr. Artie Nielsen, and this is my assistant Claudia Donavan," Artie introduced, not wasting time.

"Why don't we sit down?" Calavicci asked and gestured to the couch, an exact replica of Dr. Beckett's. "I hate this chair," the admiral grumbled as he sat in the arm chair. "Why Beth insists on keeping it is beyond me."

"Admiral, we don't have much time," Claudia said.

He smiled. "You never do. Now, what is it the Secret Service wants to see me about?"

"We're not here on Service business today," Artie said. "We're here because we work in the strange and inexplicable. We need to talk to you about something that happened while you worked with Project Quantum Leap."

Calavicci looked at them with a new level of respect. "Alright."

"Do you remember anything about the incident when the Imaging Chamber blew up?" Claudia asked.

He hesitated. "No. I don't. All I remember is I was talking to Sam when we were suddenly cut off. Then, suddenly the main projector was on fire, and then there was a huge flash of light and heat. Everything just went dark after that."

_Right_, Claudia thought. _He probably just doesn't want to tell us._

"Are you sure?" she asked. He looked at her.

"Even if I did, I suspect you wouldn't believe me." He left it at that. After a moment, Artie cleared his throat.

"Do you remember what happened when you woke up?" Artie asked.

"I remember three unfamiliar faces grinning. One of them was holding an open canister, and he put the lid on as I came to. I remember it because it was odd. Then Tina, Gushie, and Sadie were through the door, excited and jabbering away. A few days later, I was discharged, and I talked to Dr. Chapel. He didn't explain what had happened and just said to be grateful they had made it, whatever that meant."

Claudia and Artie glanced at each other. That sounded about right.

* * *

Chapel knocked on Gushie's dorm door. Ziggy's list had been tiny; as in three people long. Two of them, Dr. Beckett and Admiral Calavicci, were not exactly open to questioning, and they had to wait for the other finish his shift. This other was Dennis Gushie, and he had some things to explain.

Blinking and yawning, the programmer opened his door.

"Yes, Doctor?" he yawned.

"We have a few more questions, if you wouldn't mind."

"Sure. Why not? Come in." He looked exhusted.

Chapel, Pete, and Myka came into his little room. He sat down at his desk and twisted around.

"So, go on," he prompted.

"We have reason to believe someone messed with the Imaging Chamber sensors," Myka said.

"What are you saying?" Gushie asked. "One of my people purposely rigged that explosion?"

"Not exactly," Pete said. "We're saying there are only so many people who can go behind Ziggy's back with the clearance to pull it off."

Gushie smiled. "I see... You mean I rigged that. Smart, but I didn't do it."

"Can you prove that?" Myka asked.

"I can't, so you have no reason to believe me."

"Gushie," Chapel said softly. "You're up to your neck in something you don't understand, and it could cost the admiral his life. It's best to come clean now. We can fix this, but we need to understand."

"I don't know what happened! All I know is..." he hesitated.

Chapel raised his eyebrows, waiting.

It came out in a rush. "We thought it could help us understand the exact nature of Dr. Beckett's leaping. Sam and Al thought they had nailed down exactly what would happen, but there must be something else underlying it, because look what happened! Then Shannon found this book. We-"

He was cut off by a soft klaxon from the loudspeaker in his room.

Gushie jumped up. "That's Ziggy! Something's wrong!"


	7. Chapter 7

Pete, Myka, Chapel, and Gushie raced to the Control Room.

"Ziggy?" Gushie asked as he skidded to a stop before the console.

"What are you panicking about now?" Ziggy asked.

"Wait a minute," Pete said. "An alarm just went off."

"Give me a moment," Ziggy sighed. He started hunting through his vast data logs for this alarm.

"I see the alarm was sent out, but there was no cause for it I can see."

Gushie frowned. "This is just like earlier."

"Well, there has to be a cause for it, right?" Myka asked. "So what could set off an alarm?"

"Well," Gushie said. "Mostly, it would be tripped by a sensor, but it'll go off if something's wrong with Ziggy or the setup."

"You might find this interesting," Ziggy interrupted. "I am picking up some energy from the Imaging Chamber and Admiral Calavicci's room."

"How much energy?" Chapel asked.

"Enough to power a toaster, and it's increasing exponentially."

* * *

Chapel squatted in the middle of the Imaging Chamber with his arms wrapped around his head. He could feel all of the energy surging around him. He was trying to pinpoint its exact source and nature. It was clear that somehow it linked the admiral with this room, so it wouldn't surprise him if the artifact was right here.

He jerked into motion. It was right... here! He moved over to where the central projector had been mounted, and he used his fingers to find the burnt door in the base of the podium. It swung open, and resting inside was a thick stack of typewriter pages completely untouched by the explosion or fire.

"Guys," Chapel said. "I think I found it."

Pete and Myka came over as he pulled it out.

"_The Color of Magic _by Terry Pratchett," Myka said, looking at it. "I think this is the original manuscript." She took it from Chapel. "I read this once."

"What was it about?" Pete asked.

"An alternate universe with magic and strange creatures."

"Do you think this is it?" Chapel asked.

"One way to find out," Pete said.

* * *

"Sure hope this works," Myka muttered as Pete opened the canister of neutralizer. She looked down into the admiral's face as Chapel put a hand to it.

"Ready?" she asked.

The other two nodded. She took the manuscript in both hands and very carefully lowered it into the purple goop. It sparked and hissed and then went dead. Pete and Myka looked at Chapel. He shook his head once.

"Great," Pete said. "Now what?"

* * *

"So it sparked, but nothing happened?" Artie asked.

"Yeah," Pete replied. "Calavicci's still out of the building."

Artie made a noise through his nose. "I've never heard of anything like that. Unless, of course, it's too late."

"Come on," Myka said. "We know that's not true."

Ziggy interrupted from the intercom. "May I speak with you three in the Control Room?"

"Sure," Chapel said. "We'll be down right away."

* * *

"Well, tell me," Ziggy said as the others came in. "When were you going to tell me about Warehouse 13?"

The others looked at each other, recalling Claudia's report.

"Preferably, never," Chapel admitted. "How did you find out?"

"I dug deep enough to find the Warehouse, and since this is a very object-oriented search you've been conducting, it wasn't hard to put the pieces together. But of course, there's the problem of just who you actually are. Dr. Chapel, you were born in 1984. Tell me how you are able to be here in your 20's with your doctorate."

"In much the same way Dr. Beckett is able to change the course of history."

"Time travel," Ziggy said. "And just how did you manage that?"

"The Warehouse helped me out." He touched the small sundial pendant around his neck. His systems danced to its tune, forever enslaving him to wear it. Pete put a hand on his shoulder, crossing a barrier Chapel had inadvertently created when he had put on the sundial for the first time.

"So," Ziggy said. "I take it you think the admiral's condition was caused by one of the objects you work with."

"An artifact, yes," Myka said. "We might have found it, but we didn't change anything in the admiral's condition when we neutralized it."

Ziggy processed this. "I don't know much about your work, but is it possible that its effect is time-based?"

"Hadn't thought of that," Pete said. "It could be."

"Wait a minute," Myka said excitedly. "That might be it! I have an idea!" She pulled the manuscript from the neutralizer and opened it. The neat text was outlined in gold, and when she flipped further into the book, she found the text was black. A little more flipping found the spot where the text turned gold. It marched across the page, and a rough voice filled the Control Room, reading it word for word.

"That's Admiral Calavicci!" Ziggy exclaimed, shocked.

"I think I know what happened," Myka said. "I think this absorbed him and put him in the story."

"So when will the admiral get back?" Pete asked.

"When the story's over. We just have to wait."

"How long?" Ziggy asked.

She looked at how far along it was and flipped forward looking for time key words. "I think the whole story lasts a few months."

"Months?" Ziggy asked. "We can't do this for months!"

"No, you can't," Chapel agreed. Pete and Myka looked at him. "The project will fall apart without his leadership. Congress will probably end it, and even if they don't, these guys will lose moral. They need him in the driver's seat."

"So what can we do?" Pete asked.

Chapel smiled. "I'll show you."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapel stood next to Calavicci's bedside and took the manuscript in both hands. The sundial glowed, and Calavicci's heart-rate spiked, as did his breathing rate. Time had accelerated to a dizzying pace. Chapel turned to the very last page of the book and waited. When the gold appeared on the page, he slowed time again, and he called the others in. Shannon Whitebirch and Gushie had come to explain, and they all waited while the admiral read the last paragraph of the story. Pete pulled the canister's lid off, and Chapel got ready to plunge it in. The last word echoed, and in it went. It sparked brightly and hissed before falling silent.

Albert Calavicci moaned, and Pete, Myka, and Chapel leaned over him, grinning. Whitebirch and Gushie stood back, and a a quick nod from Pete, they raced off to go find Tina and Sadie. The Warehouse agents backed away and let everyone else take over. Their job was done.

* * *

Gushie and Whitebirch sat down with Chapel, Pete, Myka, and Ziggy.

"So what happened?" Myka asked gently.

"I found the manuscript buried in a box of books I bought at a garage sale," Shannon said. "I found out what it could do, and I took it to Gushie. I thought it would help us piece together what had gone wrong with Dr. Beckett's initial leap."

"It's activated by the phrase, 'I wish you were here,'" Gushie said. "I stored it in the Imaging Chamber. Who would look for it there? Then the admiral said the key phrase."

"And the explosion?" Ziggy asked.

"It takes a lot of energy to cross that barrier," Shannon said. "It automatically draws on its surroundings to get that. It was in the central projector, so it drew on all the equipment."

"What about the power surge in your room?" Pete asked her.

"It got restless that night. That's part of why we had to hide it so it wasn't in contact with anyone."

"And the alarms?" Ziggy asked. "Did we ever figure that out?"

"I think I did," Chapel said. "That might have been Calavicci trying to communicate. Think about it. It must have been very disorienting, and he was obviously still connected, so he probably influenced you, Ziggy, without you even realizing it. He probably just wanted to get home."

"Speaking of which," Myka said. "Pete and I probably have to get going and take care of the manuscript."

Chapel nodded. "Alright." He stood and led them out into the hall. He took the sundial in his hand, and when they nodded, he ran his finger along its edge.

"Thank you for coming," he said.

"No problem," Pete said.

And then they were gone.

* * *

TWO DAYS LATER

Al decided to call on Dr. Chapel. According to the others, he had been instrumental in bringing him back.

Chapel was in Sam's old room, and he opened the door before Al knocked. That was a little creepy.

"Hello," Al said uncomfortably.

"Hello. Would you like to come in?" Chapel asked.

"Sure."

He pushed the door open and let Al in. Chapel sat down on one of the two cots beside the wall and just waited. Al had come to him, after all.

"I hear you helped bring me back."

"Perhaps. I had some help.'

"Speaking of, where are your assistants?"

"They had to go. What else is on your mind?" Chapel asked, changing the subject.

"Do you know what happened? What _really_ happened?"

Chapel took a long time in answering.

"Yes, I do. And I suspect you do, too."

Al walked over to door and put his arm on the frame. "I do, and I can't make sense of it."

"You may never be able to. Or one day, you may wake up and suddenly it's all so clear you wondered how you missed it before. All the advice I can give you now is be grateful we were able make it here and to put it out of mind. This project needs you. That's why Congress called us in. We're... specialists in the weird and unexplainable, and this project will go under if you aren't in charge. That's not an overstatement." He paused, his eyes distant. "And Dr. Beckett has much to hope for."

Al jolted. How had Chapel known what he was thinking about? He always doubted himself, because he had never been able to bring Sam back.

Chapel stood and hesitantly put a hand on Al's shoulder, and he let the admiral see everything he was. He let him see the long nights in college, the too-short days at his Denver practice, the evenings with Artie in Univille, the lonely mornings from every day of his life, and everything between. Al choked for a moment, and he reflexively reflected it. He let Chapel see all he was. He let Chapel see the excited nights from the conception of the quantum leap, the cynical days from the more recent retrieval failures, the contemplative evenings from every day of the project, the idealistic mornings that followed, and everything between.

And then it was over. Chapel dropped his hand and looked away. Al left without a sound. There was no longer any need to say anything. They both knew each other completely.

Chapel sat down numbly. He had never let anyone see so much about him, but it felt good. It felt like he had flushed something out of his system at last. Maybe he needed this. He couldn't hide behind barriers all his life.

He laid down. It had been a long day. He needed to rest before he headed back home tomorrow morning. As much as he liked this time, he just wanted to go home.

He drifted off, and he thought of the future.

* * *

_**Ok, that wasn't exactly what I expected, but I like it all the same. R&R!**_


End file.
